


It's Prom and I'm the Only One Dancing

by Lousy



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst, Dib & Zim Friendship (Invader Zim), Humor, Prom, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22286854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lousy/pseuds/Lousy
Summary: It's prom and Dib is determined to have a good time. However, his peers seem hellbent on ostracizing him and Dib really isn't making things better for himself. To make it happen, Dib tests the boundaries of a new friendship and a fake ID. All Zim wants is to leave.Rated for language.
Relationships: Dib & Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	1. It's Space Themed

It was the night that had been anticipated for months and prepared for for weeks. Everyone looked their best, ready to go for several more hours under the strobing lights and pounding music. But still, no one danced. It was prom and the dance floor was deserted except for  
1) human  
1) alien

Dib felt the stares, but he didn’t dare stop. If he stopped flailing his limbs, stopped pushing and pulling them, stomping his feet and sweating and jackknifing his arms the world would end. _His_ world would end without ever having been about him and it would belong to them again. Next to him, Dib wouldn’t describe what Zim was doing as dancing, but even in his inebriated state he could admit he was glad Zim was doing it. Even when he was looking at Zim he felt the stares that said so much, those looks that wished the weird kid away and the glares that told him he was ruining everything.

“Yeah, well,” Dib choked out, knowing he couldn’t be heard over the music and the 10 feet of space he had been given in every direction, “you ruined my life.”

* * *

3 Hours Ago  


“It’s space themed.”

“WHAT?!”

“I said it’s space themed!” Dib shouted, aiming his words down to his friend’s face. “The way pictures of space are edited into the visible light spectrum makes it look really pretty, so,” he gestured at puffs of colored tulle and the slowly spinning cardboard stars suspended from the ceiling, “it’s supposed to look like that.”

Zim scrunched his face up. “Yeah, well they did a bad job.”

“What?”

“THEY DID A BAD JOB!”

“Oh. Yeah.”

The two lapsed into a silence watching the pulsating dance floor. It was a mess of sweaty bodies dressed up in their absolute finest doing their absolute best to have fun in their square foot of space. Regardless of what anyone lingering at the edges of the room might try to convince themselves of, it was undeniable that there was a magical quality to the dance floor that kept one watching and drew observers in. It was the main attraction of the entire event, a fact attested to by the rest of the ballroom’s sparse population. Tables adorned with plastic tablecloths and dollar-store decorations orbited the dance floor in concentric rings, most empty but for a few purses. Outside of those rings were refreshment tables stocked with cheap snacks and manned by far-eyed teachers. And outside of those orbits, lingering against the hotel ballroom wall apart form it all, were Dib and Zim.

Having been mesmerized by the etheriality of dozens of gyrating bodies, Dib started when he looked to his side and Zim was gone. He looked around and quickly locked onto Zim, hurrying to push off the wall and follow his beeline out of the room.

“Hey, wait u— oops, sorry, excuse me— slow down!”

Once Dib broke out of the ballroom and into the connecting hall he ran to catch up to Zim’s hurried steps. “Where are you going? There’s still like five hours left.”

“Zim was promised by a poster ‘the best night of Zim’s life,’ but at this point I would have to be handed the keys to Earth for that to be true.” Zim finally stopped at Dib’s behest.

“Yeah, but there’s still a few hours left of prom! You paid for your ticket so you may as well stay.”

“You already said that and, no, I may not as well.”

“Okay, then can you stay for me?”

Zim squinted up at Dib. “Why do _you_ want to stay? If you want to fooden and play games come with me. It will be more fun than this.”

“I…” Dib’s gaze flitted around the sparsely decorated lobby, “I just want… Look, I’ll cash in a friend point if you stay.”

Zim crossed his arms. “Are you sure? No takies-backies.”

“Yeah, I just don’t want to leave knowing that I didn’t try everything I could to have the pseudo-legendary night that is prom.”

Zim shrugged and started back towards the dance, “Your stupidity is my gain.”

They stopped in the ballroom doorway to survey the scene. Before he could get sucked into watching the dance floor again, Dib sought out the only other thing in the room. “Let’s get some food.”

Zim grunted and followed Dib’s path farther into the room than either had yet been. By the time Zim had shoved aside a kid who wasn’t watching where he was walking, screamed at him, and found Dib at the snack table, Dib had already been disappointed.

“Check this out.”

“Eh?” Dib was pointing to two paper table tents set by the brownie plates, one saying ‘BLEACH’ and the other ‘NO BLEACH.’

“Someone added those and I can’t tell if it’s a political commentary on school-issued meals, or if someone actually messed with the food.” He leaned forward to sniff the plates. “I doubt they dumped bleach on them, but with the stellar security we have they really could have done anything.”

Zim reached a hand forward for a cookie, but it was slapped away by Dib. “Didn’t you listen to what I just said?”

“No. And what if it’s the commentary thingy and the food is fine. If I have to stay here I at least want to eat.”

“You shouldn’t take that chance with these shit heads! With a few exceptions they’re all pretty much the worst.” He glanced around furtively but Zim looked unimpressed. Dib slapped his reaching hand away again. “If food really matters to you that much we can swing by the gas station next door in a few, that way you’ll at least be getting food poisoning from strangers.”

“Zim will remember that promise.”

“Actually, that might be a friend poi—”

“No, no it’s not, shut your filth trap right now! Zim is being forced to stay here under the bonds of ‘friendship,’ so it is your duty to make this as bearable as possible.”

Dib frowned. “That’s unfair.”

“I could ask for _two_ friend points under the threat of leaving.”

“… Are you?”

“Not yet, but I could. Remain humble, Dib-beast.” Zim patted Dib’s shoulder awkwardly.

He sighed, about to leave, when two of his classmates walked past the table sharing a laugh. While Dib was distracted looking at them, Zim snatched a cookie off the table and began scarfing it down.

“Hey!” When the pair didn’t acknowledge Dib, he hurried after them and tapped one on his shoulder. “Hey!”

They stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“Were you the people who put the signs by the food?”

“We’re not staff, I think you’d have to talk to one of the teachers about that.”

“Oh, real clever.” Dib narrowed his eyes. “I know you know what I’m talking about and I saw you laughing when you walked past the table. I just want to know if you put anything in the food.”

The two shared a bewildered look. “I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said one.

The other cut in. “Wait, is this a prank?”

“You tell me,” Dib shouted, gesturing towards the table behind him.

“I… dude, I don’t know what to tell you. We haven’t touched the food.”

“Then, do you know who did?”

“No idea. Didn’t know there was anything wrong with it.”

Dib began to back off, rubbing the sweat from his hands onto his pants. “Well… I’m pretty sure there is, so you probably shouldn’t eat it.”

“Yeah, okay buddy,” one chuckled.

Dib’s ears turned red at the patronizing tone. “Sorry to bug you.”

“No problem man, someone’s got to keep the public informed!” The two boys saluted and retreated laughing into the ballroom. Still blushing, Dib stared after them before turning back to Zim at the table.

“Dumbasses. I bet they’re the ones who did it, so yeah, food table’s off limits.”

Zim pulled his hand back from the table. “Fine, but don’t forget about the gas station.”

“Yeah yeah.” Dib moved past Zim but hesitating when he saw the dozing teacher assigned to the refreshment table. Thinking better of it, he changed routes for the doors. “Let’s do something else. I don’t think we’ve seen everything yet.”

Exiting the ballroom, the sound of revelry and merriment drew Dib’s attention to the end of the hall, where he saw a photo opportunity with props, a fun background, and a line of his classmates straightening their boobs and their ties before their turns. It was manned by a photographer trying his hardest not to look bored. “Hey, let’s take a picture!”

Zim narrowed his eyes and held his wig in place with one hand. “A picture?” he said with venom, spraying crumbs at Dib.

“No no, I— I meant with the photographer. Jesus.”

“Oh. Yes. Very well.” Zim straightened his wig and followed Dib into line.

“I was thinking that we could do a funny picture, like those really shitty family portraits where no one is smiling and they all look hopeless and depressed. Lemme find an example to show you.” Dib pulled out his phone and began searching with a smile.

After half a minute of Dib being on his phone and consequently not giving Zim attention, he had gotten bored and began peering around the hall and down the line for something more interesting. As conspicuous as he was being, the way the group of girls standing next to him in line averted their eyes at Zim’s passing glance was ten times more so.

“Yes?”

One of the girls blushed but met Zim’s gaze. “Oh, sorry for staring it’s just,” she looked to her friends and then back to Zim, “are you two friends now?”

“Yes! Behold Zim’s normal human friendship!” When Dib didn’t immediately meet Zim’s high five, Zim poked him until he looked up and met it. Dib immediately went back to his phone. “See? Very normal.”

“Mhmm, for sure. I’m just surprised because the last time I had a class with you guys you like… _hated_ each other.” Her friends nodded.

“Well that is obviously no longer the case. We have been able to reach a mutually beneficial relationship based upon a strict point system ever since the Dib admitted that I am a normal Earth child and that he had merely been too intimidated by Zim’s superiority to see that.” Zim grinned and patted Dib awkwardly again. “Thankfully for him I am very forgiving.”

“Oh yeah!” Another girl’s eyes lit up as she joined the conversation. “I remember how worked up he used to get about you being an alien or something and how he was ‘defending mankind.’”

“Or do you remember how much he talked about seeing Bigfeet in his garage?”

“Oooh my gosh, yes, and when he would talk about his ‘paranormal experiences’ during class and the teacher would get pissed at him!” The group broke into an chatter trying to outdo one another with the absurdity of their Dib-centric stories. The competition was stiff.

“Hey, I’m right here,” Dib waved at them looking uncomfortable.

“Oh, sorry sorry sorry! I promise we’re not making fun of you, we’re just talking about how, uh, silly you used to be middle school.”

“Yeah, well you guys were kind of dicks to me when we were kids so I’m not as excited to relive the reason I was socially ostracized as you seem to be.”

“Jesus, lighten up!” The girls shared an exasperated look. “That was like lifetime ago and we know you don’t still believe in that stuff.”

Dib’s eyes narrowed. “Actually, I _do_. I can understand why you wouldn’t, it takes a lot of effort to keep your eyes open and connected to your brain, but that happens to be a hobby of mine so yeah, I ‘still believe in that stuff.’”

The first girl’s eyes turned to ice. “Who the fuck do you think you are.” Dib held the stare, but when the photographer shouted ‘next!’ she and her friends filed in front of the backdrop to take a series of fun, space-themed photos. He and Zim watched in silence until Zim tapped Dib’s arm.

“What was the picture you wanted to emulate?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

When it came their turn to take photos, Dib put on a prop pair of antennae and went through the motions until the photographer beckoned for Dib and Zim to look at the pictures. Zim looked the same in all of them, grimacing in the shape of a smile while casually gripping his wig with one hand. Dib was smiling in most, but in one his face had fallen. The photographer had captured the moment someone from the line had shouted ‘say delusional.’

“That one looks pretty close to the picture I was going to show you,” he said, ripping the antennae off.


	2. So Dance Your Liver Out

The photo booth having been a bust, Dib knew what he wanted to do next. Across the hall from the ballroom was another room rented out for prom, this one much quieter and filled with groups playing board and card games on tables.

Dib slid into a chair at a table starting a game of blackjack, Zim sitting beside him.

“Hey, Dib!”

“Oh! Hi Gretchen, I didn’t see you. You look really nice.” Glad to see a friendly face, Dib was able to smile genuinely. 

“Thanks, you too! Hi Zim.”

Zim grunted, focusing on blocking out the dealer’s explanation of the game and the rest Dib and Gretchen’s conversation, only looking up when cards were dealt and the round started. They were three rounds in and Dib had almost fully relaxed when Zim leaned into his ear.

“Look at that idiot on the other side of idiot girl, he doesn’t know that he’s supposed to hold his cards in his hand!” he cackled softly.

“You’re one to talk, I’m pretty sure that’s the only rule you know.” Dib shuffled through the cards in his hand before Zim’s words sunk in. “Wait, what?”

He leaned his elbows on the table to look around Gretchen at the boy Zim had referred to. He was holding a full hand, but whenever he extended an arm…

“Hey, he’s cheating!” The entire table turned to look at Dib. “He’s got extra cards up his sleeves!”

Gretchen elbowed Dib lightly, speaking under her breath. “Be cool, that’s my date.”

“Wha— I will not ‘be cool,’” Dib said, “anyone can look in his sleeve _right now_ and see that he has extra cards.”

Zim jumped up in his chair, pressing his palms against the table. “It’s true, Zim has seen them!”

“Sit down, kid,” the dealer said exhaustedly.

“Zim will not sit until justice is served!”

Dib pushed away Gretchen’s shushing finger. “Aren’t you going to do anything?”

The dealer blinked slowly. “Well, I’m not allowed to touch any of you for legal reasons.”

“I— what? I meant about him cheating.”

She sighed and turned her attention to Gretchen’s date. “Got anything up your sleeve that I should know about?”

He dropped his cards onto the table and raised his hands. “No ma’am.”

The dealer shrugged at Dib, ignoring his incredulous spluttering, and continued the game.

“It’s not even that big of a deal,” Gretchen whispered.

“Yeah Dib, maybe you should learn to shut up about your conspiracies and let people have fun,” a boy piped up from across the table.

Dib shut up and left all the way to the ballroom as soon as the round ended. He was going to have a good night if it killed him. Halfway through the room he began to feel a heat on his neck and slowed his stride. People were going to stare, they were going to _talk_ about the class weirdo dancing and he would ruin that part of prom just like he had ruined blackjack. As soon as they noticed him they were going to talk about how he didn’t belong at prom, even though he had taken out his piercings and rented the standard tux, and then they would alienate him. Banish him back to the edges of the room and out of orbit for their own good like they had done in his youth and, at times, in his present. It was a struggle now to convince himself it was worth it to put one foot in front of the other. “I’m just gonna ruin it for them by being there, they don’t want me, I should just…”

“If you’re going to stand there for the rest of the night, I’m going to the gas station.” Watching Zim leave his side snapped Dib out of his reverie. Without hesitation he followed Zim’s quick steps out of the ballroom, down the hallway away from the photo opportunity, through the lobby, and into the parking lot. He hardly paid attention to where he was going, simply following the instincts of his childhood to chase after Zim. The instant the automatic doors released Dib into the cold night air he stopped to release a pent-up sigh and allow his shoulders to slump. He wiped sweat off his face with the sleeve of his jacket and took a moment to ground himself and breath. While he did this, Zim wasted no time forging through the bush separating the hotel and the neon haven that was the gas station. They weren’t separated for long, because it only took one hotel guest giving Dib an odd look for him to fight through the bush himself and find Zim in the gas station’s snack aisle. He leaned against a shelf close to where Zim was perusing and immediately took a can of spray cheese thrust at him. The place smelled like deli meat and the flickering fluorescent lights were moments away from giving Dib a headache, but somehow it was better than prom.

Zim picked up a bag of cheese curls and handed it to Dib to hold. “Prom is dookey.”

“Look, I know you’re not having a good time but I’m not done yet.”

“I’m not saying it for me, Dib-stink, I’m saying it because I don’t think your gigantic, terrible head is smart enough to understand that.”

“What?”

Zim finally looked up from the rows of snacks. “What part of that was fun for you?”

“You know I don’t have an answer to that.” He took a packet of donuts from Zim. “That’s part of why I’m not done, but I’m having a hard time figuring out how I can have fun without fucking up anyone else’s fun.”

Zim crossed his arms. Dib sighed.

* * *

1.5 Hours Later

“It’s just I… I spent so much _time_ protecting them from you and doing things for _them_.” Dib took a finishing swig of his beer and set the can near the others next to him. “All I wanted was a little bit of recognition and respect. Is that so much to ask for when I was _literally_ saving their lives every couple of days?” He groped on the ground next to him for another can and knocked the empties away from where he and Zim were sitting against the back of the gas station. “Whatever. I don’t need their respect anymore.”

“Uh huh.”

Dib teared up. “Who am I kidding, I’m desperate for their approval! I didn’t used to care, but I just got so so tired of being ‘that guy,’ but— but I never stopped being him! I’m so pitiful!”

“Yes Dib, very pitiful.”

Dib slumped down further and fumbled to open another can. After taking a deep drink, he turned on his side to face Zim. “Y’know you’re kind of a shitty listener. Maybe I should take my point back.”

Zim bristled. “What! I am sitting here in the filth while you drink smelly dumb dumb juice and cry about the opinions of other humans, that is exactly what you asked me to do! Zim has been listening and not talking for ages, it has been very difficult!”

“Yeah, but you’re uh, you’re judging me and that’s not how this works. You’re supposed to just go ‘uh huh,’ and ‘yeah,’ and ‘man that really sucks, I’m sorry Dib,’ not say stuff like ‘you smell and also are being a baby.’”

“Zim never referred to you as an infant, and I definitely said ‘uh huh’ several times.” Zim crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “You just want your point back because you’re all out.”

“Pfft, I am not. I’ve got like… five points still. Because I’m such a good friend.” Dib slipped the rest of the way down the wall and clumsily caught himself before his head hit the pavement, spilling some of his beer.

Zim scooched away from the spill. “Do not attempt to lie to Zim! I’ve been keeping track of the usage and acquirement of points for such a lying occasion.” A leg extended from Zim’s PAK and placed a tablet in his hand. He tapped it twice and thrust it under Dib’s nose. “Observe!”

Dib leaned in and squinted in an attempt to merge the two moving images he was seeing, getting his head pushed back when his nose touched the screen. At this distance, he focused on the screen until he was able to read the chart on display and the history of point transactions. It took a moment to process, but once it did Dib gaped in disbelief. He was out of points. Dib tried to stop what happened next, he really did, but the beer and the candid confessions and the night at large had worn him down.

“Don’t do that Dib-thing, you look ugly and— eugh, stop leaking.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” Dib released an ugly sob, “I thought I would be the better friend out of the two of us or even that I would be a _good_ friend, but now,” he took a shaky breath while pointing aggressively at the tablet, “there’s proof that I’m bad at the last social aspect of my life I hadn’t given up on!”

Dib gave up on propping himself up and collapsed onto the ground, also having quit holding in his tears and accompanying gross noises.

“There there, friendly comfort, Dib-beast. You have finally come to terms with your inadequacy to Zim, difficulty coping is to be expected.” Dib attempted another sip, but most of the beer spilled in front of him. He swallowed what little had made it into his mouth and let the can fall out of his hand.

Dib laid blubbering for some time with Zim tapping on his tablet next to him. Occasionally Zim would shout at him to stop gasping for breath and sobbing so loudly, but he made no other complaints or threats to leave. Dib had no idea how much time it took for his crying to reduce in intensity to the point of being classified as sniveling, but any amount of time was a lot to ask of Zim after a night of dragging him around.

“I’ve been such a bad friend to you,” he choked out, reaching for Zim.

Zim swatted the hand away and moved farther away from Dib. “Well you shouldn’t be too sad, after all how could you expect to win at our friendship when I have won at every other aspect of my life!”

Normally, such a comment would be something for Dib to ignore, but normally Dib wasn’t wiping streaming snot from his nose with the sleeve of a rented dinner jacket while laying drunk in a puddle of tears and beer behind a gas station so shitty the cashier didn’t question Dib’s fake ID. “Win at everything my ass. How many times did I thwart your shitty space-cockroach plans, a billion?”

“You should go back to telling Zim what an inferior friend you are.”

“No no, this is important.” Dib made an effort to sit up and wipe his eyes with the designated ‘no snot sleeve.’ “No matter how great you think you are, no matter how much better of a friend you are than me, you just— you _can’t_ take away the dozens of times Dib won. I worked my ass off to beat you every time and _no one_ in there,” he waved in the direction of the hotel, “knows about it. Only you, so you can’t pretend like it didn’t happen.”

“Eh, you remember events differently than me.”

“No dude, you’re not getting it!” Dib’s face shone from the drying tears and emerging enthusiasm. “All the shit we put each other through brought out the best in each other and pushed us to, uh, push and be our best selves. You’re a better invader because of me, so don’t erase that by pretending it was always easy for you.”

Zim inched away from Dib as he climbed onto his knees and began a wobbly approach towards Zim. “And you know what, I can’t erase how much of a better, more determined, more resilient, and more smart person you’ve made me. Which is why,” as the thought occurred to Dib for the first time, he hauled himself up, swaying, “I’m going back in there.”

* * *

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“Then let’s leave.”

“How can you say something like that, you’re supposed to support me!”

“You seem to be doing a,” when Dib swayed too close to Zim, he shoved Dib away, “adequate job of supporting yourself.”

Dib stumbled back into a chair before pulling it out from the table and plopping into it. The boy sitting at the table grabbed the purses he had been watching and relocated. “Shit you’re right, I’m like the president of the ‘Dib support club.’ Get ready to watch me support the fuck out me!” He clumsily pulled out his phone and turned on the camera, next struggling to press the directional button while Zim hovered nearby. Once he was able to see himself on the screen Dib spent a moment straightening up. “Wait, where’s my jacket?”

“The car, Dib-shit,” Zim growled, “its failure stench was assaulting Zim’s senses.”

“Oh, cool. Supportive pep talk time.” Dib began by narrowing his eyes and pointing a menacing finger at himself. He retracted the finger almost immediately. “Actually, I might not need one, maybe I can just,” Dib stood and took a few steps towards the dance floor. “Fuck, no way, they’re all gonna… _fuck_ I need a pep talk. I need to do this. To avenge my childhood!” He fell back into the chair and picked up his phone from where he had left it on the table.

“Just get on with it, you’ve milked this friend point enough.”

“You rushing me isn’t going to help anything! Either be helpful or shush.” Dib cleared his throat obnoxiously and turned his attention back to his phone. “Alright Dib, this is it. After years of letting your classmates fuckin… push you around and offer you no recognition for your efforts in saving humanity, this is the one chance you have to do something you want to do and say ‘fuck you’ to their opinions. Because you’re a badass. And you look really cool and _are_ really cool and— Zim get out of the shot— and you deserve to have one cool high school experience that’s about you and no one else!” He pumped his fist and stuffed his phone into his pocket before standing and making his way towards the dance floor, ignoring Zim’s quiet ‘that’s it?’ 

He chanted a chorus of ‘fuck yeah fuck yeah fuck yeah’ under the music as he moved around tables to the center of the room. As he approached the center his palms began to sweat, but he continued his mantra and pushed on. The ring of tables closest to the stage was coming up quickly, the last chance to back out, but Dib didn’t allow himself to consider the option or break his momentum. Within moments he had made it through the ring and onto the dance floor.

“Fuck yeah fuck yeah _fuck yeah fuck yeah! Fuck yeah!_ FUCK YEAH!” After fighting his way through the crowd and into a rare, empty patch of the dance floor, Dib danced his heart out. The music was loud enough and his euphoria potent enough that Dib was unconscious of the crush of people around him. He pumped his arms in victory and then in rhythm followed by stomping feet and banging head. He thrashed and waved and did whatever motions he could call, however vaguely, dancing and didn’t spare the people around him a second thought. He was winning, he was master of his fears and his classmates. Until they weren’t there anymore.

Dib dimly became aware of a growing space between him and anyone else. As he slowed his frantic movements to be able to see what was going on, he noticed looks of disgust on many faces as they backed away or were guided elsewhere by a concerned date. The haze in his brain struggled to understand what was happening while continuing the push to keep dancing. “Fuckasses,” he muttered. His fire was going out as quickly as the space around him was growing, but he knew he wasn’t yet done.

In a gap in the crowd, Dib spotted Zim sitting at a table playing idly with the centerpiece. “ZIM! ZIIIIIM!” Zim spared a glance, annoyance flashing across his face, but nevertheless hopped up and pushed through the crowd to stand next to a still-dancing Dib.

“Can we leave now?”

“WHAT?”

“LEAVE! GO, DEPART!”

“No! We can’t go yet!”

“Why not?”

“I need you to dance with me!”

“Eh?”

“I need you to—”

“I heard you, that was a surprise ‘eh’ also to be interpreted as, ‘NO!’”

“You don’t need to dance with me, just next to me! They’re all looking at me like I’m an alien, I— I can’t do this alone.”

Zim didn’t respond, letting Dib cabbage patch with a worried expression for a moment longer. He looked at the faces surrounding them, and then began bobbing up and down. “Zim will accompany you for a friend point.”

Dib’s confusion was visible. “What?”

“A FRIEND POINT!”

“That’s… what I thought you said. But I’m all out, and our agreement—”

“I’ll let you take one out on credit, but just this once!”

Dib’s dancing had slowed, but began to pick back up to the song’s tempo as Zim started swaying next to him. And so it was that the dance floor was populated by  
1) desperate, drunk, and confused human and his  
1) friend

Even with Zim dancing next to him, the stares were difficult to ignore as were the whisperings of how Dib was ‘ruining prom.’ But fuck that. And fuck them. Because Dib might be ruining prom by, for once, putting himself before his classmates, but he was okay with that.

Someone nearby repeated the phrase he had so desperately avoided earlier in the night. “Yeah, well,” he choked out, “you ruined my life.”

If Dib had been dancing his heart out before, he was now dancing out the rest of his vital organs. This was his one shot to redeem an entire childhood and he was not about to waste it by half-assing the sprinkler, the mashed potato, or any number of corny dance moves he was hacking his way through, so he closed his eyes and had fun. Dib lost himself in the moment, only becoming aware of his situation again when his chest was heaving from exertion and the beer sloshing around in his stomach made its presence known.

Dib leaned down so he didn’t have to shout at Zim, who had his eyes closed and appeared very focused on his movements. “I’m done.”

As if a switch had been flipped, both stopped dancing and walked off the dance floor. The human wall parted for them and, as soon as they were outside the first ring of tables, began filling the floor once again. The two walked uncontested to Dib’s rental car and climbed in. Dib, still trying to catch his breath, fumbled the key into the ignition, cranked it, and then blasted the air conditioner. “Holy shit I can’t believe I did that.” Dib giggled unstably before leaning his head onto the steering wheel and groaning.

“Yes, we’re all in awe of your thrashing, now pay for a car to take me back to my base.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Dib hesitated while reaching for his phone. “Okay, but can we take a moment to acknowledge that all the stuff I made you do tonight was worth it in the end? I got the night I wanted, even when those— those fuckin’ assholes tried to alienate me and be all like ‘there’s the weird kid don’t let him have fun for one goddamn night and _don’t_ let him feel accepted in this group that he’s protected uhhhh I dunno a hundred times?’ I came out on top though, because I’m strong as fuck.” He looked at Zim. “Because of you. So. Yeah. Thanks for sticking with me.”

Zim snorted.

“I’m sorry if I’m being corny, but you were there, you saw it all.”

“What Zim saw was our classmates being frightened of an obviously inebriated idiot who, just a few hours before, had loudly displayed many of the unstable traits that got him ostracized in the first place.”

Dib paused. “Wait, really?”

“Wait, really?” Zim mocked.

“I… oh my god.” Dib slumped down, mouth open. He started to say something else but abruptly flung the door open and vomited onto the parking lot.


End file.
